


last of a dying breed

by bibliophilo



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Post-Canon, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22613656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliophilo/pseuds/bibliophilo
Summary: Yusaku’s final Duel runs a little too long, and not all of Ai’s copies are deactivated.One of them finds his way home.(Aiball Week 2020 Day 1: Reunion/Separation)
Relationships: Ai | Ignis/Fujiki Yuusaku
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	last of a dying breed

**Author's Note:**

> all bitches who watch vrains know how to do is listen to fall out boy and cry over 120 I've never been so simultaneously validated and heartbroken in all my life

A1-006 is all too aware that he’s being watched.

He doubts SOL Technologies is trying for more than the bare minimum of token subtlety; after all, they own him, and they of all people know how easy it is for him to pick up on even the most minimal surveillance. A moving camera hidden up in the corner just behind the table leg, a bug planted in the fake soil of an artificial rose tree—really, he’s beginning to think they only gave him all this furniture he doesn’t need just so they could monitor every inch of his apartment (which they also own).

What he doesn’t understand is _why_.

Sure, they may have concerns over his being a prototype, the first SOLtiS given complete free will and agency, but nothing he’s done since his creation has indicated aggression or any other cause for alarm. They already monitor his internal functions, but cameras? He’s always done as he’s told, albeit with more cheekiness than a professional human employee could get away with, but if they didn’t like it they could have reprogrammed him a long time ago. So what gives?

Maybe they can tell he’s starting to get restless. There are only so many routine tests and experiments he can sit through before they all start to blur together (a figure of speech, of course—his superior memory allows him to recall each uneventful session with perfect clarity), and in the two years since he was made not once has he been given anything _interesting_ to do.

If he didn’t already know they don’t trust him, the latest bug would be a clear enough indicator (under the bed skirt this time, as if there’s ever anything interesting to observe there, the perverts). It doesn’t bother him too much, though there’s nothing he could do about it even if it did; no amount of test results and performance reviews seems to be enough to convince SOL Tech that their latest and greatest creation is just a good little android, not planning a robot revolt or world domination or anything so dramatic.

A1-006 doesn’t dream that big.

(Maybe they know about the boy.)

He doesn’t dream of power or ambition or any of the things his masters are surely wary of. For as long as he’s been capable of sleep, he’s only ever dreamt of one thing.

This is the one area where his perfect memory fails him. He’s never been able to see the boy’s face clearly, never heard his voice; but those vivid green eyes are seared into his circuits, stamped on every bit of wiring and steel cable sinew under his synthetic skin. When the boy looks at him, the pressure in his chest grows, engulfs him, threatening to cave him in.

(He hasn’t told them about the boy.)

Where have they met before? If he can’t remember, it must have happened early on, when he was first activated and no better than a newborn. As a sophisticated prototype still in the testing stages, the project that birthed him would have been highly classified, so whoever the green-eyed boy is he likely has connections to one of the SOL Tech higher-ups—maybe even CEO Zaizen himself.

The notion that the boy doesn’t exist outside of his dreams isn’t entertained longer than a nanosecond. Even if there’s no trace of him to be found, be it in the company database or on social media, such lovely eyes (sometimes warm, sometimes indescribably pained) can’t have been born solely from his imagination, not without a face to match. And judging from the whirlwind emotion in those eyes when they pierce him, the boy’s effect on A1-006 is far from one-sided.

Of course, he can’t just go poking about after the personnel who were present following his activation, let alone get a message to distant Zaizen, asking if he or the other executives know any boys with gorgeous green eyes. He has a certain degree of freedom, and he’d rather not squander it on a line of investigation more likely to get him overhauled than to glean any useful information.

No; if he wants to find the boy, he’s going to have to go straight to the top.

* * *

His handlers are none too pleased with his application, but he _is_ technically an employee, and with his flawless performance they have no reason to reject him. The network security team will be fine without him for a couple of weeks, and just in case, he’s left them an updated program to execute in his place in the event of an unusually tenacious hacker. (It also causes little stylised animations of himself to pop up on their desktops after fifteen minutes, but he’s going to let them find that out for themselves.)

He doesn’t have pets or plants that need looking after, and while he doesn’t have a _bad_ relationship with his uptight handlers, they’ll certainly appreciate the respite. All in all, he’d say he’s long overdue for a vacation.

Zaizen shouldn’t be hard to find. Headquarters are located in far-off Den City, right at home among the skyscrapers and corporate towers. It’s not quite the bustling metropolis A1-006 envisioned—he’d hoped to find it a little more _happening_ , despite his prior research into the place suggesting otherwise—but it’s not like he’s planning on staying; all he needs is to catch Zaizen in person and he’ll be on his merry way, chasing dream eyes wherever Zaizen’s lead takes him.

There are plenty of other SOLtiS already active in Den City, though none are advanced enough to grab A1-006’s attention. He’s got more important matters on his mind, like how he’s going to convince Zaizen he isn’t simply malfunctioning. AI don’t normally dream, do they? Well, they don’t normally sleep, either, but A1-006 is one of a kind. Zaizen should have been prepared for anomalies when he approved such a project in the first place.

Getting past security will be the toughest part. A1-006 has his company ID on him, not to mention SOL’s signature encoded into every component of his body, but human guards are unlikely to stop and verify an off-model SOLtiS unregistered to the head office waltzing in unannounced. Really, the optimal scenario would be just _happening_ to run into Zaizen somewhere public, like out here in the city plaza, outside a café or in line for a hotdog, or—

01001111 01101000 00101110

A1-006 believes in the high probability of an outcome determined by the most likely variations of a number of largely provable, quantifiable factors. This is not the same as believing in fate—it is, at its core, the opposite. A1-006 has considered hundreds of likely scenarios for the success of his ‘vacation’. None of them involve glancing aimlessly about the city plaza only to meet the eyes of his dreams staring right back.

Somewhere, perhaps fate is laughing at him.

The boy looks just as stunned as he is, unflattering grey hoodie doing nothing to detract from his handsome features now frozen in disbelief. The effect his gaze has on A1-006 is so much _more_ in reality—it burns through layers of fabric and silicone and unromantic metal, disregards his exterior and exposes the core, making contact with all that makes him _him_.

The boy’s lips move, and at this distance in the crowded plaza it takes A1-006’s enhanced auditory sensors to catch him.

(“ _Ai?_ ”)

He wants to run, cheer, wants to _cry_ for some reason, to touch the beautiful boy with the beautiful eyes and make certain he’s real, to ask him why why _why_ —

A1-006 moves on instinct, advancing through the oblivious crowd with a speed that would dislocate the hips of the average human. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say; every word from the countless scenarios he’s constructed sounds absurd in the face of reality, but most absurd of all are the words that wind up tumbling from his traitorous tongue—

“I’m home.”


End file.
